New Beginnings
by dustnik
Summary: Set in 1925. An alternative Season 6 providing a different ending for some of our favorite characters. Ensemble piece.
1. Chapter 1

****Episode 1****

Lady Mary was seated at the breakfast table, no longer eating off a tray in her room. Her new position as the estate agent kept her very busy, and she found herself eager to get started. Her father turned to the butler standing at attention by the sideboard. "Did Lady Edith get off alright? I hope she had time for breakfast before she left."

"Mr. Stark drove her to the station, m'lord," Carson replied. "She said she'd have something to eat on the train."

"She's always racing up to London these days. What was it this time?" Mary asked disinterestedly.

"Perhaps she's met a man there."

"Edith? Not likely."

Robert shrugged. "Then something to do with the magazine, I suppose."

She rolled her eyes and reached for the letter Carson held out to her on a salver. "Ah—it's from Tom," she declared brightly. She opened the envelope and perused its contents.

"What does he have to say for himself?" her father inquired.

"Everything is going well. He's found a flat with a garden, and Sybbie's happy at her school. Goodness! He says he's planning to run for the Boston city council."

"Hmm," Robert replied noncommittally.

Mary quickly scanned farther down. "He's seeing someone, a Miss Flynn. Apparently, they met at a political rally and hit it off. He doesn't say if it's serious."

"Well, he wouldn't, would he? Not to us anyway. I just hope for Sybbie's sake that she doesn't turn out to be another Miss Bunting."

She folded the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope. "What are you doing today?"

"I'm meeting with your grandmother and Isobel to discuss this wretched hospital business." His voice signaled his displeasure.

"What's it all about anyway?"

"The Royal Yorkshire County Hospital wants to take over the running of our hospital. It would mean newer methods and more modern treatments but at the expense of our independence. Isobel and your mother are for it while your grandmother and Dr. Clarkson are against it."

"And what do you think?"

"I just want to keep the peace."

"I don't envy you," Mary commiserated with a slight smile. "Now I must run. I want to see Fairclough's new planting, and then I have to see how Mr. Mason is settling in. I'll be back before luncheon." She promptly rose from her chair and sailed out of the room. As much as she missed her brother-in-law, she reveled in her new role as the land agent. It gave her a sense of pride and purpose that she hadn't found in marriage and motherhood.

Before the war, her life had been ordained: marry Cousin Patrick, produce an heir, and eventually take her place as the mistress of Downton Abbey. But that future was shattered with the sinking of the Titanic and the death of Downton's heir presumptive and his son. In truth, she was less upset at Patrick's death than the loss of the countess' title.

Her chance came again when she married the new heir, Matthew Crawley, and gave birth to their son, George. Once more, all seemed set for the future until Matthew was killed in a car crash. Mary was devastated and dealt with her grief by throwing herself into the management of the estate. To her great surprise, she found that the work was to her liking. When Tom left for America, she gladly took over his position as the estate agent. As she was quick to point out, it was a changing world.

* * *

While Lady Mary was out, Anna Bates nipped down to the hospital to keep an appointment she'd made the previous day. She left Dr. Clarkson's office smiling to herself. The secret that she had suspected for weeks was confirmed. She was pregnant. After all their years of trying, she and John were going to have a family at last. She supposed the stress of everything that the pair had been put through since their marriage began was the reason she hadn't conceived sooner. It sometimes seemed that no couple on earth had as many problems to contend with as they did, but all that was behind them now. Mr. Green's murderer had come forward, and they were free to get on with their lives. She wouldn't tell John the news about the baby, not yet. It was still early days, and she didn't want to see him disappointed if something unforeseen happened. No, she would keep it to herself a little while longer.

Upon returning to the Abbey, her husband was the first to greet her at the back door. "I was looking for you. Where did you go?"

"I had an errand to run for Lady Mary." Her eyes couldn't quite meet his.

"Oh, and what was that?" he asked playfully.

"Never you mind, Mr. Bates," she teased. She still couldn't bring herself to call him by his first name while they were working. "It's almost time for our lunch. We should go in."

The weeks passed, and the pregnancy was beginning to show. Bates hadn't noticed yet, but Lady Mary was more observant. One night while the servant was getting her ready for bed, she asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?" She added a knowing smile.

Anna blushed. "There might be, but I haven't told Mr. Bates yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up until I was sure that nothing would go wrong."

"Oh, Anna, I'm so happy for you, happy for you both, but you must tell him soon before someone else notices and ruins the surprise."

"You're right, m'lady. I'll tell him tonight." The little maid finished her work and joined her husband who was waiting patiently downstairs in the servants' hall. They quickly made their way out the back door and down the path leading to their cottage.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Bates observed.

"Am I?"

"Is there something on your mind?"

"There is, actually." She stopped and took her husband's hand, pressing it gently to her growing belly.

He turned and faced her in the moonlight. "My God! Are you saying—"

"You're going to be a father, John. I'm going to have a baby."

He lifted the petite woman off her feet and twirled her about.

"Put me down," she laughingly insisted.

He complied and promptly gave her a kiss instead. "Have you seen Dr. Clarkson yet?"

"I have. He said it'll be born in late December."

"Then you must have known for weeks. Why did you take so long to tell me?"

She became serious. "I wanted to wait in case something went wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong," Bates assured her.

"I pray you're right."

"I am right," he declared imperiously. "So what's it going to be, a boy or a girl?"

"Oh, I neither know nor care as long as it's healthy."

"I can see her now, a pretty little girl with her mother's blonde hair and blue eyes."

"Or a stubborn little boy like his father," Anna added with a smile.

He squeezed her hand. "Let's go home."

* * *

Daisy Mason sat at one end of the long dining table deep in thought. Her finger absently traced the rim of the empty teacup in front of her. Mrs. Patmore had already gone upstairs, and the Carsons and the Bateses had returned to their respective cottages for the night. Farther down the table, Andy and the hallboy, Billy, were engrossed in a game of cards, one or the other letting out an occasional whoop when they took the hand. Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter were locked together in conversation at the far end while Mr. Barrow sat alone in his usual spot by the fireplace reading a newspaper. Daisy observed that the underbutler's near-black hair was now flecked with gray. It was yet another reminder that the years were passing.

She had come to Downton back in 1912 at the tender age of fourteen to work as a scullery maid. She never knew her parents, and the orphans' home where she grew up arranged it with Mrs. Hughes. She worked hard and did well for herself, rising to the position of assistant cook. At one time, she might have been content to remain in the Downton kitchen until she was old, eventually replacing Mrs. Patmore, but now the thought of spending the rest of her days in that dark, gloomy basement filled her with a sense of dread.

Mr. Mason was still after her to move in with him. He had taken over the tenancy of nearby Yew Tree Farm after his old estate was sold. He was anxious to teach his widowed daughter-in-law what she needed to know about running a farm so she could carry on when he was gone. It was a very generous offer, and she was truly appreciative, but so far, she had managed to hold him off. She didn't want to spend her life buried down on the farm, marrying one of the local lads and discussing livestock and crops for the rest of her life.

After leaving school at the age of eleven, Daisy knew little more than how to read and write and perform simple arithmetic. She had determinedly taken up her studies again, discovering a whole world that she never knew existed, a world of art and history and science. It only made her eager to go further, to see what else was out there for her. She had passed all her exams with high marks, but she wondered now what it was all for. So she could slave away in the Crawley kitchen from morning to night or tend to the chickens on the farm?

Gwen Harding's recent visit had stirred up something in her. At one time, the two had been equals below stairs, but now Gwen was a successful businesswoman. She was lunching upstairs with the Crawleys while Daisy was still stuck downstairs. Of course, Gwen hadn't done it alone. Lady Sybil had helped her: finding job openings, giving her clothes, and even driving her to an interview. But Sybil was dead these past five years, and no one else seemed interested in the dreams of the young assistant cook.

In her heart, Daisy longed to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Miss Bunting, teaching working-class children like herself. She wanted to give them the opportunities she never had, a chance at a better life, but what good did it do to dwell on it? She would need to attend college to earn a teaching certificate, and where would she get the money for that? Holding back the tears, she rose and slipped out of the servants' hall unnoticed.


	2. Chapter 2

****Episode 2****

Charles Carson entered the library, having been summoned by Lord Grantham. "You wished to see me, Your Lordship?"

"Yes. There is something I need to speak with you about. Please." The Earl indicated one of the facing, red sofas flanking the fireplace.

Carson felt uncomfortable sitting in his master's presence, but after decades spent in service to the Crawley family, he obeyed without protest.

Robert began, "I'm afraid the time has come when we need to discuss future staffing requirements at Downton."

The butler looked surprised. "We have cut back, m'lord. We're down to one hallboy and two housemaids, both of whom live in the village, and in the kitchen, there's only Mrs. Patmore and Daisy now."

"I know, and there's no need for anything drastic. The estate is working well thanks to Mr. Crawley and Mr. Branson, but I don't like to feel out of step with my fellow man."

"How many do you see leaving, m'lord?"

"I don't know, but some."

"We must run this place as it should be run," the older man insisted.

"I'm not asking you to wield a scythe, but I mean, who has an underbutler these days?"

Carson was taken aback, but upon further consideration, Barrow was the logical choice to go. Thomas' salary was second only to his own, and nowadays, it was true that few houses boasted an underbutler. "Do I take it then that you wish me to give Mr. Barrow his notice?"

"I don't want him flung into the road. I'd like to allow him time to find another position first."

"As you wish, m'lord. I'll inform him tonight." The butler returned downstairs to the privacy of his pantry still reeling at the news of the impending layoffs. He had come to Downton in the last century after a brief career on the stage, determined to leave that life behind him. In those days, service was an honorable and secure profession where a dedicated man or woman could advance through hard work and diligence. He rose rapidly through the ranks, finally being awarded the position of butler. It all seemed like another world now.

A knock on the door interrupted his reverie, and his wife stepped into the room. "Here you are. I was wondering where you were hiding."

Carson looked up at her with a troubled expression. After a rocky engagement, their marriage had finally gone forward and proven an unqualified success. "His Lordship wishes to reduce the staff. He wants to begin with Mr. Barrow."

"Mr. Barrow?" she repeated in astonishment.

Carson frowned. "I'll tell him tonight after dinner. He won't take it well."

"You won't pretend you'll miss him now?" The housekeeper was fighting hard to suppress a smile.

"He's been here a long time. I've gotten used to him. Let's say that."

"What's really bothering you, Charlie?"

He realized with a sigh of resignation that she could read him like a book. He tried to explain. "I feel like our way of life is disappearing little by little. First, it's the underbutler, and next, it'll be a footman or a lady's maid. Then the valet will have to go. Where will it all end?"

"The times are changing at Downton Abbey like everywhere else as they were bound to, I suppose."

"I know, but I don't have to like it."

* * *

Thomas emerged from the pantry still in shock. After so many years, the Abbey had become his home and the other servants his family for better or worse. Everyone there knew of his "difference" and tolerated him at least. He couldn't count on finding that in another house.

"Mr. Barrow? Is something wrong?"

He looked up to see Andy standing beside him wearing a look of concern. The underbutler offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Everything's fine." He supposed the lad might be another victim of the chopping block, but there was no reason to worry him with that yet. Footmen were an expensive luxury these days, and the Abbey had two. Andy was young enough to begin a new career, but Thomas was fast approaching middle-age and too old to start over. What if he couldn't find another place? Where would he go? What would he do? Without realizing it, the job had become his whole life. He thought he'd remain there to the end of his days eventually replacing old Carson. Now all that was gone.

Every day, he diligently scoured the jobs columns but found few openings for a manservant, especially one of his level. He replied to all of them but seldom heard anything back. He began to despair of ever finding another position. Miss Baxter was quick to console him. "Don't worry, Mr. Barrow. I'm sure something will turn up." The two were standing outside in the kitchen courtyard.

"It better get here soon," he replied gloomily, taking a pull from his ever-present cigarette. "I see the way His Lordship looks at me, and Mr. Carson keeps dropping hint after hint. They can't wait to be rid of me."

"Well, I'm going to miss you."

"If you are, you're the only one."

"That's not true. Everyone's sorry you're leaving, especially Andy."

Thomas gave a little snort. "He'll be too busy mooning over Daisy to notice I've gone."

"Daisy?"

"Anyway, he'll probably be next. They don't need two footmen, and they won't sack your Mr. Molesley."

"He's not __my__ Mr. Molesley," the embarrassed lady's maid corrected him. She promptly changed the subject. "It could be a good thing that you're leaving. Maybe at a new place, you'll meet another man like you."

"And then what? We'll take a house together and live happily ever after?" he replied bitterly. He paused, shaking his head. "No, all that's done now."

He continued to smoke, lost in thought, when he suddenly became aware that Miss Baxter was gone and Andy had taken her place. "Did I startle you, Mr. Barrow?"

He offered the footman a smile. "Only a little bit." Thomas had grown very fond of the young man since his arrival at Downton.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing important," he answered quickly, becoming suddenly curious. "What will you do if you have to leave?"

"I'm not sure. I'm waiting to see how certain things—progress," Andy replied mysteriously.

Thomas assumed this was about Daisy again. "You're young, and you're strong. You could even find work on the farms. Maybe Mr. Mason would take you on."

Andy wrinkled his nose. "What do I know about farming? I'm a city boy, remember."

"Then you'd probably do better back in London. There are more opportunities there."

"Are you going to London, Mr. Barrow?"

"I'd like to stay up here if I can."

"If you found a place nearby, we could still see each other sometimes," Andy remarked casually.

"Who knows where either of us will end up?"

The younger man looked dejected.

* * *

News of the proposed layoffs had spread quickly below stairs. Barrow was the first to receive his notice, but the others knew he wouldn't be the last. It was a constant source of speculation in Mr. and Mrs. Carson's absence. Everyone calculated his or her chance of being kept on, and Molesley was no exception. He knew that one of the footman positions was likely to be eliminated, and without the precedence of first footman, it could just as easily be him as Andy. The last time he had lost his job, he was forced to deliver groceries and mend roads. He couldn't return to that life again.

He shared his concerns with Miss Baxter as they strolled into the village one afternoon. He looked forward to these walks as they allowed him to spend time alone with the lady's maid. "Has Lady Grantham mentioned anything about who else might be leaving?"

Baxter heard the worry in his voice. "No, but I'm sure you'll be alright. If one of the footmen have to go, it will be Andy, not you."

"Oh, I don't know. He's younger and more handsome, and Mr. Carson never really cared for me."

"Nonsense. You've got more experience, the family likes you, and you're every bit as handsome as Andy," she assured him.

The last made the balding footman smile. "But what if I do have to leave? It's nearly impossible to find a place for a manservant these days."

"I know. Mr. Barrow isn't having an easy time of it."

Molesley didn't like Thomas and hadn't forgiven him for his treatment of Miss Baxter when she first arrived. However, he knew she remained fiercely loyal to her childhood friend, so he wisely changed the subject. "At least you know you'll be safe. Her Ladyship couldn't do without a maid."

"I'm not so sure of that."

He felt a wave of panic wash over him. "She hasn't said anything, has she?"

"No, but if I do have to go, it'll be alright. With a reference from the Abbey, I'll be able to find work now."

"You'd stay here in the village?" a worried Molesley asked.

"It would be nice if I could, but there's no guarantee."

The footman frowned. He had grown to care very deeply for the lady's maid since her arrival, and she seemed genuinely fond of him too. He'd never been one of those men who possessed the good looks and easy charm to attract members of the opposite sex. His shy nature and unassuming manner often left him overlooked and lonely. At one time, he had set his sights on the lively, pretty Anna only to see her snatched up by the brooding Mr. Bates. He didn't want it to happen again with Miss Baxter, but what did he have to offer her or any woman now for that matter? He couldn't afford a wife on a footman's salary.

* * *

Miss Baxter wasn't as complacent as she appeared. The thought of leaving Downton and the new life she'd made saddened her. Even with a reference from the Abbey, her criminal record was still out there for anyone to discover. She couldn't count on finding another employer as kind and forgiving as Lady Grantham. Then there was Mr. Molesley. True, he wasn't as smooth and handsome as Peter Coyle, but over the years, she had grown to appreciate his finer qualities. His modest, gentle demeanor suited her, and she had come to value his friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

****Episode 3****

Upon hearing the Bateses' happy news, the other servants were quick to congratulate the couple. "I suppose this means you'll be leaving us soon," Mr. Molesley said to Anna.

"I'll be staying on for a while yet. I still have a long way to go." Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Mr. Carson's expression of disapproval and added, "Lady Mary wants me to work as long as I wish to."

"What do you say to that, Mr. Bates?" Molesley continued, joking.

"It all has to be thought through."

"Of course, it does," Miss Baxter agreed, fixing Molesley with a curious glance.

That night, the Bateses sat across from each other at a small table in their kitchen enjoying a cup of tea after a long day's work. It was their favorite time of day, as it allowed them to speak uninterrupted without fear of being overheard. John cleared his throat. "I've been thinking it might be time to sell the London house when the lease expires. We could buy a little hotel up here like we always talked about and run it together."

Anna had heard it all before. It had long been a dream of theirs. "Could we really afford to do it? Do we have enough money?"

"I've worked out the numbers, and I believe we can make it work. Are you ready to leave Downton?"

Anna had arrived as a young woman to work as a housemaid, having first escaped her troubled home situation by taking a job as a tweeny in another house. She had become attached to the Crawleys and the other servants in a way that her husband hadn't, but she knew in her heart it was time to move on. Her priority now had to be John and their child. "I'm ready."

Bates smiled broadly. "We'll go up to London at the end of the month after the tenant moves out and put the house on the market. Then we'll see what's available in this area. That way, we won't have to move too far."

Anna returned his smile. As usual, he understood her feelings and sought to please her. She considered herself a very lucky woman indeed.

The couple set out the following month, taking a bus into York. They had arranged with the agent to view two properties there. The first was an older hotel which had been recently renovated, but the price was well beyond their budget. The second was run down to the point of dilapidation. The next week they traveled to Thirsk with no better luck. "Never mind. We'll keep looking," Anna said encouragingly.

At last, they found the perfect place, a cozy, ten-room hotel in Ripon, a mere nine miles from the village of Downton. The London house had sold quickly, bringing in a substantial sum, and they found themselves in a position to purchase it. "What do you say, Anna?" her husband asked anxiously. "It will need some work, of course, but not a lot."

"Oh, I think we could fix it up really nice, make it something special. I could work behind the desk and have the baby with me, and you could see to our guests. The set of rooms in back would be perfect for us."

"So is that a yes then?" Bates smiled hopefully.

"That's a yes, but let's not tell anyone until all the work is completed and we're ready to turn in our notices."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Bates." He gave his wife a grateful kiss. "I'll settle with the agent directly."

* * *

A small dinner party was planned for that evening. Lady Rosamund, Isobel Crawley, and the Dowager Countess were invited along with the latter's dear friend, Prudence, and her nephew who happened to be visiting. The subject of the hospital merger was on everyone's lips. The family was assembled in the drawing room when Carson announced their guests, "Lady Shackleton and Mr. Henry Talbot."

"What?" Mary's head spun around to see the tall, dashing racing car driver she met the previous year during their stay at Brancaster Castle. "You never said your aunt was Lady Shackleton. Did you know she was bringing you here?"

"One must be allowed some secrets," he replied coyly.

Mary felt a flutter of excitement. She had forgotten how charming and handsome he was. The two were seated next to each other at dinner and fell into easy conversation. When the time came to say goodnight, he handed her his card and invited her to call him when she was next in London. She took it gladly. Since her doomed affair the year before with Tony Gillingham, there had been no other men in her life. It was nice to be reminded that she was still a fairly young, attractive woman.

At Brancaster, Henry had been cordial but no more. He wasn't a man to fall at her feet like Tony or Charles Blake or Evelyn Napier. He was a challenge and as such, infinitely more interesting to Mary. She soon invented an excuse to visit London, arranging to stay with her aunt there. Henry seemed pleased to hear from her and suggested dinner at his automobile club.

"Are you interested in cars?" he asked after they had been seated.

"I'm afraid I couldn't care less."

"What are your passions?"

"I like my work."

"Do you work?"

"I manage the estate for my son, George. Are you very shocked?"

"Far from shocked, I am extremely impressed." He changed the subject. "Will you be staying at Brancaster again this year?"

"I don't think so. We were guests of the Sinderbys, but now their son and our cousin are living in New York. You won't believe this, but it seems Edith has been seeing the agent, Bertie Pelham. Isn't it ridiculous?"

"Oh, I don't know. He seemed like a nice enough chap."

"But what are his prospects?"

Henry frowned. "Does it matter?"

"Not to Edith apparently. Any port in a storm, I suppose."

"What about you? Is there anyone special in your life?"

"Not at the moment," Mary admitted.

"I'd like to change that."

The aristocrat smiled with amusement from behind her menu.

Over the following months, there were other trips to London, and Henry paid several visits to the Abbey. He invited the entire Crawley family to Brooklands to watch him race. It made Mary nervous, and she was secretly relieved when it was over. Things between the two were moving fast, too fast for Mary's liking. What had begun as a bit of fun was quickly turning into something more. She knew Henry had neither wealth nor title, and nothing could come of it, but was he as convinced of that as she? The idea of marriage and all that it entailed had become increasingly less palatable to her. At one time, it was the only option for a woman of her class. Even after Matthew died, she thought she would marry again, but now she questioned if that was still the right path for her. She loved running the estate. Was she willing to give it up now?

* * *

One evening after dinner, Mrs. Carson sought out Daisy in the kitchen. "I'm afraid Gertie's been taken ill. I need you to do the bedroom fires tonight while the family is still in the drawing room."

"Yes, Mrs. Carson." It was a task the assistant cook remembered all too well from her days as a scullery maid. She collected the heavy tools and made her way upstairs to Lady Edith's room first. She knelt before the grate and soon had a blazing fire going. Staring into the flames, she unexpectedly burst into tears as the hopelessness of her situation came crashing down on her. She was still sobbing when Edith entered the room.

"Daisy? Whatever's the matter?"

Daisy scrambled to her feet. "I'm sorry, m'lady." She gathered her things and attempted to leave, keeping her eyes carefully lowered to the floor.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." Edith led the woman to her bed and sat down beside her. "Now what is it? Maybe I can help."

All the young cook's hopes and dreams came spilling out at that moment. It felt good to unload the feelings she had been keeping to herself, even if it didn't change anything. When she was finished, she apologized, "I don't know why I said all that. Please, forgive me."

Edith looked thoughtful. "So you'd like to be a teacher. I don't see why you couldn't do that."

"I'd need to go to college, but it costs a lot of money." She rose to go. "I'd better get on with my work. I still have to do the other fires before the rest of the family comes up. Goodnight, m'lady."

"Goodnight, Daisy."

The following night, she and Mrs. Patmore were just finishing the washing up. "There's another day done and dusted," the older woman declared.

Daisy studied her curiously. "Mrs. Patmore," she began, "did you ever want to be something other than a servant?"

The stout cook appeared taken aback by the question. "What makes you ask that?"

"I was just wondering."

"Well, I always thought I'd have a home and a husband to care for, but the years went by, and I got old and fat, and here I am, still on my own." Her voice sounded regretful. "So let that be a lesson to you, missy. Find yourself a nice young man and settle down while there's still time."

"The men around here only care about farming." Daisy spoke the last word dismissively.

"What about Andy? He's a good lad."

"Andy?" She had never thought of the lanky footman that way, and he hadn't shown any particular interest in her either. "Isn't he a bit young? Besides, I don't want to get married—not yet anyway."

Mrs. Patmore shrugged as she exited the kitchen. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," Daisy whispered to her retreating back.

* * *

The older cook slowly mounted the four flights of dark, poky stairs leading to the servants' quarters. Her mind was replaying her conversation with Daisy. It was true that she had once dreamed of a husband and a home of her own, but sadly, it was not to be. She thought she had come to terms with her disappointment long ago, but the recent marriage of her good friends, the Carsons, reminded her again of everything she was missing. Although she genuinely wished the couple well, a large part of her envied them their happiness. At the very least, they had someone to grow old with while she would die alone and unloved.


	4. Chapter 4

****Episode 4****

While the family was in London for the motor racing, Bertie Pelham unexpectedly proposed to Edith one evening after dinner. Although they had only been seeing each other a few months, the two were desperately in love. She wanted to accept him straight away, but it wasn't that simple. There was Marigold to consider. Edith had told him only that the girl was a ward of her family and a particular favorite of hers. He had agreed to let her bring the child with her after they wed, but how could she marry him without telling him the truth? Would he still want her, knowing of her past?

Bertie had little family to speak of: his cousin, the current Marquess of Hexham, whom he adored; and his mother who was, by his own account, a stern and forbidding woman. Would they need to be told also? And whatever would they think of her? These were the questions that plagued her constantly and the reason she had not yet given him her answer. She finally confided her dilemma to her parents.

"I should say nothing. No one has to know," Robert advised her.

Cora was quick to disagree. "Of course, you must tell him. If you don't, there will be a lie at the heart of your marriage, and you'll never be happy."

Now Edith was more confused than ever.

* * *

She had received a phone call from a heartbroken Bertie saying that his beloved cousin had died in Tangiers. He would be flying there to make the necessary arrangements but wished to stop by Downton first. He also informed her that his cousin's death meant that he was now the new Marquess of Hexham. Before dinner, she shared the news with her family to audible gasps of surprise.

Only Mary appeared unimpressed. "Well, if it's true, he won't want to marry you now, not with a bastard child."

Edith was stunned. "How did you find out?"

"Please. I'm not stupid." She added, "I assume you've told him the truth about Marigold."

Edith didn't reply, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

She and Bertie were seated alone on a bench overlooking the lake. The day was warm, and Edith held a parasol to protect her from the sun's rays. The talk centered on Bertie's sudden ascension to the peerage. "I can't do this without you. Please, say you'll marry me," he implored.

Edith came to a decision. "There's something I must tell you first. If you want to take back your proposal after that, I'll understand."

"Nothing you could say would make any difference to me," Bertie declared gallantly.

"But it might. You see, it's about Marigold."

"Your ward?"

"Marigold is my daughter."

Bertie stared at her in stunned silence.

"Her father was Michael Gregson, the man I told you about. We were only together that one night, but I became pregnant. We would have been married if he hadn't been killed and raised our daughter together." She paused. "I won't give her up."

"No," Bertie agreed.

"I haven't accepted you yet, so you're free to find someone else."

"Why would I do that? I love you, Edith, and I want you to be my wife."

"What would your mother say? Would she accept me? And what about Marigold?"

"I'll speak with her. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise."

"Oh, Bertie, I do love you."

"Is that a yes then?"

"Yes." Edith beamed at him.

"How do you feel about New Year's Eve for the wedding?"

* * *

Some days later, Isobel was perched on a small settee in the Dowager's drawing room. "So Edith is to be the Marchioness of Hexham," she said with a smile.

Violet nodded. "Let's just hope nothing goes wrong this time."

"Has she told him about Marigold?"

"She has, thank heavens." The Dowager had confided the truth about the girl to her cousin some time back.

"And he still wants to marry her? He must be a very good sort of man."

"I believe they're planning to 'adopt' the child after the wedding."

"Will they ever tell her the truth, I wonder?" Isobel mused.

"Someday when she's older, I imagine," Violet replied absently.

"Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

"It's this hospital business. I wish we could get it settled. It just seems to be dragging on and on." The two women found themselves at odds over the proposed amalgamation.

"Surely it would be settled if you and Dr. Clarkson would stop fighting the changes."

"Yes. I dare say." The older woman rang a little bell on the table beside her chair, and soon the butler appeared. "May we have some tea, Spratt?"

"Very good, Your Ladyship."

As he turned to leave, she added, "And ask Denker to bring me my shawl."

Spratt bobbed his head and exited the room.

"Are you feeling cold?" Isobel asked with surprise, as the day was warm and dry. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

"I'm perfectly fine," Violet replied waspishly.

Isobel returned to the previous subject. "So you're determined to dig in your heels over the hospital merger."

"Indeed I am." Violet fixed her with a curious look. "What does Lord Merton think about it all?"

"Lord Merton?"

"He must have an opinion. After all, he's heading the board of charitable donors now."

"Well, since you asked, he happens to agree with me."

"Naturally."

Isobel looked annoyed. "What does that mean?"

"Is he still on at you to marry him?"

"You know perfectly well why we can't be married. His sons don't approve of me."

"I don't see why you're letting them dictate your future. You must seize your happiness where you can before it's too late."

* * *

Miss Denker returned to the Dowager's bedroom to tidy up after retrieving the shawl. She was becoming increasingly concerned about the elderly Countess' health. She voiced her fears to Mr. Spratt that evening in the servants' hall. "I'm worried about Her Ladyship. She's become very frail."

"What are you going on about?" he asked without glancing up from his novel.

"She's been very tired lately, and today she asked for a shawl when it's quite warm out."

"She felt a chill. It doesn't mean she's about to keel over," Spratt retorted, turning a page in his book.

"But what if something should happen to her? Where would we go? What would we do?"

"We'd find other employment."

"It's not that easy. Mrs. Potter and Betty would be alright. There's always work for a cook and a housemaid, but what about us? Who do you think is hiring a butler or lady's maid these days? They're cutting back all over, even at the Abbey. Mr. Barrow can't find a place anywhere."

"We'd be fine," the butler insisted, more to convince himself than her.

"And there's another thing. Would anyone still want me at my age? I'm not as young as I look," she admitted.

Spratt's eyes widened, but he wisely kept silent on that point. "Nothing's going to happen to the Dowager. She's as strong as an ox."

* * *

Bates stood outside Mr. Carson's pantry door. After this, there would be no turning back. He knocked softly before sticking his head inside. "Mr. Carson, may I please have a moment of your time?"

"How can I help?" The butler indicated a chair in front of his desk.

Bates carefully lowered himself down with a slight grunt, thrusting his right leg stiffly out in front of him. "I've come to give notice, mine and Anna's. We'll stay on until after the wedding, but then we'll both be leaving."

Carson appeared shocked. "Might I ask why?"

"We purchased a small hotel in Ripon some months back. The repairs have all been completed, and it's now ready to open."

"I see. Have you informed His Lordship and Lady Mary?"

"We'll tell them tonight. I wanted to let you know first."

"That was very considerate of you. Thank you." As the valet was leaving, he saw Carson settle back in his chair wearing a curious expression.

That evening, Mr. Bates was waiting for the right opening. "Your Lordship, I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Bates?"

"Anna and I have turned in our notices. We'll be leaving Downton after Lady Edith's wedding."

Robert turned to him in astonishment. "Have you been unhappy here? I hope not."

"No, m'lord. We've both been very happy, but we believe it's time to move on. We've purchased a hotel in Ripon, and we'll open early in the new year after the baby is born."

"I understand, and I wish you luck with your new venture. You both deserve the best after all you've been through."

"Thank you, m'lord."

* * *

While her husband was sharing their news with Lord Grantham, Anna was searching for a way to broach the subject with Lady Mary. The aristocrat noted her silence and said, "You're very quiet tonight. If you're not feeling well, I can get myself to bed."

"I'm fine, m'lady, but I do need to tell you something." She paused. "Mr. Bates and I bought a small hotel in Ripon."

"What? When did this happen?"

"A few months ago."

"Why didn't you say?"

"We didn't want to tell anyone until it was ready to open, and now it is."

Mary was quick to grasp where this was heading. "I suppose this means you'll both be leaving us soon."

"Not until after the wedding. The baby will be born by then, and it feels like the right time to go."

Mary turned to the lady's maid, forcing a smile. "Well, I wish you both all the best. I'm going to miss you, though. We've been through a lot together."

"That we have, m'lady, and I'll miss you too."

"We mustn't lose touch. You'll come back to visit us sometimes?"

"That would be nice," Anna agreed, but both women knew their paths were unlikely to cross much in the future.

* * *

The other servants were surprised and excited for the couple when the news was announced the following day. "I think it's time for me to stop working now," Anna added. "Dr. Clarkson said I need to take it easy until the baby is born."

"Of course," Carson assured her, looking relieved.

"What will Lady Mary do without a maid?" Molesley asked.

"I can take over her duties until she finds someone else," Miss Baxter volunteered.

"That's kind," Mrs. Carson replied, "but I don't think she'll be replacing Anna."

"Another clang in the march of time," Mrs. Patmore opined while Mr. Carson sighed for the old days.


	5. Chapter 5

****Episode 5****

Mr. Carson awoke early to the sight of his wife asleep beside him. He still couldn't believe that such a woman had agreed to marry him. Their love, born out of friendship and mutual respect, grew slowly over the years, taking them both by surprise. It was the last thing they had expected at their time of life. Before his marriage, Carson was perfectly content in his role as butler to the Crawley family. He once planned to remain at Downton Abbey until he died and haunt it ever after. He couldn't imagine a better future at the time, but now his life was different in ways he didn't foresee. He often felt torn between his duty to his employers and his natural desire to spend time with his new bride. Although they worked in the same house, some days, they saw little of each other except at mealtimes. He found himself missing her and resenting their time apart.

Mr. Bates' news that he and Anna were leaving to open their hotel had given the older man pause. The previous year, he had purchased a guest house in a nearby village as an investment. It needed extensive repairs, but soon the workmen would be leaving. He planned to put a manager in place to run things, thus generating a small income for the couple. They would retire there when they became too old to work.

Elsie began to stir. She opened her eyes and greeted her husband with a warm smile. "Good morning, Charlie. You're awake early."

"I can't stop thinking about the Bateses leaving. I didn't see it coming, did you?"

"They've been talking about it for ages. I suppose with all their legal troubles, they didn't feel they could go forward before now, and don't forget, they have a baby on the way."

"First Mrs. Patmore opens a bed and breakfast, and now the Bateses are leaving to run a hotel."

"I guess we're all beginning to see a different future for ourselves whether we want to or not. With the staff being reduced at the Abbey and everywhere else, who knows how much longer service will even be viable? Look at Mr. Barrow. He's been searching for a place for months but hasn't been able to find a thing, poor man."

Carson didn't answer and simply frowned to himself.

Elsie got up, sliding her feet into slippers, and wrapped a dressing gown around her. "I think I'll make some coffee. Would you like to have our breakfast here or with the others?"

"Here, I think, if you don't mind. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Later at the Abbey, Carson was approached by the hallboy. Billy nervously explained that he'd been offered a job at a cotton mill in Liverpool. The pay was considerably more than he was currently making, and the hours were better. He was afraid the position would be filled if he were forced to work out his notice.

"We won't insist on it," the butler reassured him. Another one down.

Before tea, Carson spied Lord Grantham passing through the great hall. He stopped to share this latest bit of news. "The hallboy has informed me that he's found another job. I assume he won't be replaced."

"No, and that reminds me. How is Barrow's search going?"

"I believe he is genuinely trying to seek other employment, m'lord."

"But not finding it," Robert added quickly. "Please, tell Molesley I wish to see him."

Carson was surprised. "Mr. Molesley?"

"I'll be in my library."

* * *

"What does he want with me?" the footman squeaked in fear after Carson relayed the Earl's message.

"No doubt you'll find out upstairs," the butler replied dryly.

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Was he about to get his marching orders? He mentally prepared himself to receive bad news. Joseph Molesley had never considered himself lucky. Here he was a man well into middle-age, and what did he have to show for it? He knew how others viewed his professional descent. He saw the looks of pity and veiled contempt on their faces. Sadly, he understood their feelings and secretly agreed with them. Even his elderly father, William, couldn't hide his disappointment at his son's fall.

As a boy, Joseph had hoped to become a teacher but was forced to leave school at the age of twelve when his mother became ill. He soon found himself working alongside his father in the Abbey greenhouses. Although he did his best, he clearly had no aptitude for the job and was trusted with only the most menial of tasks. William saw that his son was ill-suited for gardening and suggested he try his hand at service instead. It seemed more in keeping with the lad's quiet, bookish manner, so in the course of things, young Joseph began his career as a hallboy at Skelton Park. He did well there, eventually working in some of the finest houses in Yorkshire. He returned to Downton when his mother finally passed on, serving as a valet to Mr. Crawley who himself later died. After that, he tried and failed to find another position at his level and was finally forced to accept a humiliating demotion to footman. Now he was in danger of losing even that.

He ascended the steps from the basement and found Lord Grantham seated at his desk sifting through a pile of paperwork.

"Y-you wished to see me, m'lord?"

"Ah, Molesley, come in." The peer set down the papers and gave the servant his undivided attention. "By now, I'm sure you've heard that the Bateses will be leaving us soon. Lady Mary has decided not to replace Anna, but I find I'm not prepared to do without a valet quite yet. I wondered if you'd be interested in the job."

Molesley's jaw dropped open in astonishment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I remembered that you attended Mr. Crawley until his death, and the position of footman doesn't really seem suitable for a man of your years and experience. It would mean a sizable increase in salary, of course. So what do you say? Would you like to be my valet?"

"Yes, I would, m'lord. Thank you. Thank you very much."

"Good. I'll inform Carson tonight."

The footman exited the library wearing an expression of shock. He encountered Miss Baxter on the back staircase. "Mr. Molesley, are you alright? Has something happened?"

"Yes—but it's nothing bad," he added quickly. He repeated the details of his previous conversation and watched the lady's maid's face dissolve into an expression of delight.

"Well done to you! Valet to the Earl of Grantham. You should be very proud."

Pride wasn't an emotion Molesley was very familiar with, but he did find himself holding his head a little higher. "I want to tell my dad tonight."

"Oh, he'll be so happy for you. Everyone will."

"Will they, Miss Baxter?" the footman asked hesitantly.

"Certainly, they will. You deserve this."

Molesley smiled at her words. He never thought he deserved anything. Maybe his luck was finally changing.

* * *

He announced the news of his upcoming promotion at breakfast the next morning. Everyone was quick to offer their heartfelt congratulations. Only Thomas remained silent, wearing an expression of stunned disbelief. He rose wordlessly from the table and stormed outside, slamming the back door shut behind him.

Miss Baxter soon followed and found him leaning against a wall smoking furiously. "Is something wrong, Mr. Barrow?"

"What could possibly be wrong?" he replied acidly.

"I know you don't like Mr. Molesley much, but you must try to be happy for him."

"Happy? Molesley gets a promotion while I'm being thrown out on my ear, and you want me to be happy about it? His Lordship should have offered me that job. I was his valet the whole time Bates was in prison."

"He probably didn't think you'd accept a lower position."

"We'll never know now, will we?" His voice sounded hurt and angry.

"Never mind. I'm sure something else will turn up."

"At least, Andy can stay on now. They won't do away with both footmen." Thomas turned, grinding out his cigarette with his heel, and returned inside. He had arrived at Downton Abbey as a young man fifteen years earlier. A clockmaker's son from Manchester, he had grown up with his parents and older sister in rooms above the shop. Upon donning his livery for the first time and noting his dapper appearance, he experienced a sense of pride he had never felt before. In that moment, Tommy, the coarse ruffian disappeared forever, and Thomas, the sleek, elegant servant took his place.

From the beginning, he was fiercely ambitious and determined to advance in his chosen profession, clawing his way from footman to valet before reaching his present place as underbutler. He was referred to as Mr. Barrow now and had become a well-known and respected figure in the village. It made him feel good about himself for the first time in his life. Without the job, he didn't know who he was anymore.

One day in the early post, he received an answer to one of his applications offering him a butler position in the home of Sir Mark Stiles. He shared his welcome news with the other servants later over their tea. "I won't start until after Lady Edith's wedding, though."

The others seemed happy for him. "Butler? You'll enjoy that," Mrs. Carson remarked with a smile.

Thomas had expected that her husband would be relieved to hear of his plans, but instead, the older man appeared troubled. "Very good. I'll inform His Lordship," was all he said. The group soon dispersed except for Thomas and Andy and Miss Baxter who was sewing a button onto one of Lady Grantham's blouses.

"Will you really leave, Mr. Barrow?" Andy asked anxiously.

"They haven't given me much choice, have they?" He couldn't help adding, "Don't tell me you'll miss me."

"I will," Andy replied quickly. "Maybe when you get to your new place, you might see if there's a footman opening for me."

"I don't think you'll have to go now. They haven't said anything, have they?"

"No, but—"

"Well then." Thomas gulped down the rest of his tea and exited the servants' hall. Andy watched him go with a sigh.

Miss Baxter witnessed the exchange in silence. Now she turned to Andy. "Tell him."

"What?" The footman looked alarmed.

"Tell him how you feel."

Andy became flustered. "Uh—I have to … " He left the sentence unfinished and hurriedly made his escape.


	6. Chapter 6

****Episode 6****

Lady Edith descended the stairs leading to the basement. She made her way to the kitchen where Mrs. Patmore and Daisy were preparing that night's dinner. The older cook looked up in surprise. "Oh—m'lady. Can we help you with something?"

"I was wondering if I might have a word with Daisy. Is there somewhere we could speak in private?"

"I'm sure Mrs. Hughes wouldn't mind if you used her sitting room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. I won't keep her long." Edith led a puzzled Daisy to the housekeeper's room, indicating a small table against the wall flanked by two chairs. They each took a seat, and Edith began. "I've been thinking a lot about what you told me, that you'd like to be a teacher. I want to help."

"That's kind of you m'lady, but I don't see how."

"I don't know if you're aware of this, but I'm on the board of Hillcroft College. It's a small school for women of modest means, bright women without the resources for further education. We'd like to offer you a scholarship that would allow you to earn your teaching certificate."

Daisy simply stared at her in disbelief.

"You'd live there during the school year, but you could come back to work here during the summer months and earn a little spending money. Would you like that?"

The cook's eyes filled with tears of happiness. "I can't believe it. It's like a dream. Thank you, m'lady. Thank you ever so much. I promise I won't let you down."

Edith smiled at her. "No, I don't believe you will. You can start in January when the new term begins."

"No one in my whole life has ever done so much for me."

"I was reminded recently of Lady Sybil's kindness toward Mrs. Harding. I wanted to be able to help someone like that too, and when I heard your story, I knew this was my chance. Will you tell everyone straight away?"

"Not yet. I want to speak to Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Mason first."

Edith rose to leave. "I understand. Good luck to you, Daisy."

* * *

It was Daisy's half-day, and she set off for Yew Tree Farm with a heavy heart. She was eager to share her news with Mr. Mason but wasn't sure how he would react. The old man was watching her from the kitchen window and promptly greeted her with a cup of tea and a little poppyseed cake. After several minutes of small talk, Daisy came to the point. "I have something to tell you, and I hope you'll be happy about it."

"Don't tell me you've finally decided to move in with me."

"It's not that."

Mason looked disappointed before brightening up. "You've found yourself a fellow. I bet it's that tall footman at the big house."

"No, it's not that either." __Andy again__ , she noted.

"Then what is it?"

She took a deep breath. "Lady Edith has gotten me a place at Hillcroft College in Surbiton. I'm going to train to become a teacher."

Mr. Mason sat back in his chair stunned. "I don't understand."

Daisy explained the details of the arrangement before asking anxiously, "Are you angry?"

"Why on earth would I be angry? If I were any prouder, I'd burst. I know our William would have been that proud too." His eyes shifted to a framed photo of his deceased son dressed in his army uniform.

Daisy smiled in relief.

* * *

Back at the Abbey, Lady Mary was seated in the library after tea, flicking through a magazine. The family had scattered, and the children returned to the nursery. She heard Carson announce, "Mr. Henry Talbot."

She looked up with a surprised smile. "Henry! You didn't say you were coming."

"I felt I had to see you. You don't mind my dropping in, do you?"

"Of course not."

He took a seat beside her. "The thing is—I might as well just say it—I find I can't live without you. Let's get married."

"Why?" The word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Henry looked taken aback. It wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. "We love each other, don't we?"

Until this moment, Mary wasn't sure how she felt about him. He was handsome and charming and everything she could wish for, but did she love him? She certainly didn't feel the same way she had about Matthew, but maybe it was different the second time around. Then there was George to consider. She felt it her duty to manage her son's fortunes until he came of age. She was determined that he would someday be the master of a going concern. What man would want to live in his wife's family home, working to preserve his stepson's inheritance? She attempted to hold him off. "I don't see why we have to rush into anything. Why can't we just go on as we are?"

"Because I want to settle down with you, raise a family, and grow old together."

"Goodness," she uttered, simply for something to say.

Henry bristled. "I know what's bothering you. It's the fact that I have no title or fortune. Your sister is marrying a marquess with a huge estate, and you can't stand to be outdone. A racing car driver with no prospects simply won't do. You're probably holding out for a duke."

Mary became angry. "Do you really think so little of me?"

He was immediately apologetic. "I didn't mean that. Please, forgive me."

"I won't be bullied into marriage, not by you or anyone else." She was remembering Tony Gillingham. "I'm not even sure I want to get married again. I like my life the way it is."

Henry's face darkened. "So what am I to you, a toy, something to play with and set aside when you get bored?"

Mary chose her words carefully. "I'm very fond of you, Henry, and I enjoy our time together. I simply don't want to get married right now."

"Then there's nothing more to say." He turned and swiftly exited the library.

Mary was still in shock when her father entered. "Was that Henry Talbot I saw leaving? What did he want?"

"He wanted to marry me."

Robert looked astonished. "Golly! What did you say?"

"I told him no."

"Did you really? I had hoped he might be the one."

"I do care for Henry," Mary admitted. "He's a wonderful man, but we want different things."

Robert took Henry's empty seat and gathered her hands in his. "My darling girl, you're getting older, and the pool of eligible men is drying up. At some point, you'll have to settle on someone."

"I don't see why. I'd rather be alone than with the wrong man."

"I can't wait to see who in the future does measure up to your exacting standards."

Mary leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Maybe no one, but it's alright. I'm perfectly happy on my own."

* * *

A week had passed since Daisy's visit to Yew Tree Farm, and she was still no closer to sharing her secret with the other servants. She wasn't sure what their reaction would be, especially amid all the talk of layoffs. What if they resented her good fortune or thought she was getting above herself? She hesitantly approached Mrs. Patmore one night after dinner. "I've got some good news—I think it's good news anyway—but I'm not sure you'll see it that way."

"Well, what is it then?" the cook replied impatiently.

The younger woman lost her nerve. "Never mind. It can wait."

"Daisy, if you have something to say, say it."

The words leaped out of her mouth in a rush. "I'm turning in my notice. I'll be leaving in January. I'm going to be a teacher."

Mrs. Patmore merely stared at her in stunned silence, seemingly unable to comprehend the words she had just heard. Finally, she found her voice. "But how? You need a certificate to teach."

"Lady Edith has gotten me a scholarship to Hillcroft College." She added, "Please, try to be happy for me."

"Of course, I'm happy for you. Did you think I wouldn't be? My Lord, you're going to be an educated, career woman." She wrapped her brawny arms around the young woman and held her close. "I'll miss you, though." She wiped away the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

"I'll still come back here to work in the summers until I graduate, that is. Then I'd like to teach at the village school if they'll let me."

"They'd be lucky to have you," Mrs. Patmore declared proudly. "Have you told your Mr. Mason yet?"

Daisy nodded, suddenly downcast. "I feel bad about leaving him on his own. Maybe you could look in on him from time to time, so he doesn't get too lonely while I'm away."

The older woman assured her. "I'll keep an eye on him. Don't you worry about that."

Daisy immediately cheered up. She thought she had detected a spark between the two older folks. The marriage of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had shown her that love was possible even in later years. Nothing would make her happier than seeing her two favorite people together.

She nervously shared her news with the other servants at breakfast the following morning. They were all quick to congratulate her and wish her well in her new vocation. A short time later in the kitchen, Mr. Molesley added his private felicitations. "You've worked hard, and you deserve this," he told her.

"I couldn't have done it without all your help. You'd make a great teacher yourself. You should think about taking matric."

The middle-aged man shook his head regretfully. "No, it's service for me now." Spotting Miss Baxter, he was quick to add, "Not that it's so bad here." He lifted a tray of chafing dishes containing the family's breakfast and headed out the door.

Andy reached for the other tray. "I think you'll make a smashing teacher, Daisy."

"Thank you, Andy."

Thomas sailed in at that moment to fetch the coffee pot and seeing the two young people together, grinned knowingly. "That's enough love talk. Take those upstairs now," he ordered the footman.

Andy looked slightly embarrassed as he turned to go while Daisy's face screwed up in confusion. __Love talk?__ Did Mr. Barrow think Andy was interested in her?


	7. Chapter 7

****Episode 7****

One morning at the Dower House, Miss Denker made the shocking discovery that the Dowager Countess had died in her sleep. She quickly shared the distressing news with the other servants, and Spratt was charged with the unhappy task of informing the family. The ripples of Violet's death were felt in different ways. Cora took over her duties as president of the hospital and finalized plans for the merger with the Royal Yorkshire County Hospital. Even Dr. Clarkson had begun to see that it was the only way forward and was allowed to stay on in his current post.

Isobel was especially hard hit by the loss of her close friend and confidante. While they didn't always see eye to eye, she had greatly admired the elderly aristocrat for her wit and wisdom. She remembered something the older woman had recently told her, __You must seize your happiness where you can before it's too late__. Isobel decided to take her advice and married Lord Merton against the wishes of his greedy family. She took her rightful place at Cavenham, and Larry and Amelia Grey were forced to move out.

Nowhere was the impact of Violet's passing felt with more immediacy than below stairs at the Dower House. Lord Grantham had informed the servants that they could remain until the start of the new year, but then he would be closing up the house. The cook, Mrs. Potter, and the housemaid, Betty, were able to find other employment straight away, but Spratt and Denker weren't as fortunate. They replied to the few ads they found but received no replies. There was a growing sense of desperation as the time to leave drew near.

"What will you do if you can't find another place, Mr. Spratt?" the lady's maid inquired one day over tea.

"I suppose I'll move in with my sister—just until something turns up. What about you?"

"Me? Oh, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in."

Spratt stifled a derisive snort.

Miss Denker rose, fixing him with a look of disdain.

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"If you must know, I have a job interview." She donned her hat and coat and disappeared out the door. She set out on the path leading to Downton Abbey. When she arrived, she entered through the back door, encountering an irritated-looking Carson.

"May I help you?" he asked sounding pained.

"Yes. I'm here to see Lady Edith. She's expecting me."

The butler's face clearly showed his surprise. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to her." He led her to a small sitting room. "Miss Denker," he announced before departing.

Edith looked up from the book she was reading. "How can I help, Denker?"

"Actually, I want to help you, m'lady. That's why I'm here."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm offering you my services as a lady's maid."

"I see. That's kind of you, but I've gotten used to managing on my own."

"I just thought that with you becoming a marchioness, you'd be needing a proper maid now."

"I hadn't—"

"After all, you'll need to look your best when you get to Brancaster Castle if you're to take your place as one of the leaders of the county." Denker's voice had taken on an air of desperation.

Edith gave in. "Perhaps you're right. Alright, let's give it a try. You can accompany Lady Grantham when she brings up Miss Marigold while we're away on our honeymoon."

Denker offered a silent prayer of thanks. "Very good, m'lady. I'll be ready." She couldn't wait to tell Mr. Spratt the news and see the look on his smug face.

* * *

The weeks passed, and preparations for Christmas were in full swing at the Abbey. The house was festooned with fragrant pine boughs and colorful holly. Presents were neatly wrapped in festive paper and secured with ribbons tied into bows. Lady Rosamund had already arrived from London, planning to stay on to welcome in the new year. One morning, she and Edith found themselves alone in the drawing room. "You must be getting excited about the wedding," Rosamund said with a smile.

"I am rather," her niece replied.

"I'm so happy for you. Edith Crawley, the Marchioness of Hexham. Mama would have been so proud."

"I wish she were here to see it," Edith spoke wistfully.

"Has Bertie told his mother about Marigold?"

"We told her together."

"How did she react?"

Edith hesitated. "She was upset at first, but now she's accepted it."

"Will Tom be coming over?"

"I'm not sure. We haven't heard back yet. I do hope he'll be able to make it. It wouldn't be the same without him."

"Who else will be there?" The older woman was full of questions.

"Rose and Atticus are coming, but they'll stay at Canningford Grange."

"Are they bringing little Victoria with them?"

"Rose wrote that they were leaving her behind. The nanny thought it best," Edith explained.

"The Sinderbys will be so disappointed not to see her."

"So will Shrimpie."

Rosamund appeared very interested. "You've invited Shrimpie?"

"I've asked him to give the speeches."

"And Susan?"

"She said she'd feel uncomfortable with her ex-husband here."

" _ _Ex__ -husband? Then the divorce is final?"

"It is, thank heaven."

Rosamund smiled mysteriously and changed the subject.

* * *

Barrow and the footmen struggled to carry the enormous spruce tree through the front doors while Mr. Carson looked on with a critical eye. They had just managed to position it upright in the great hall when they heard a man's voice ask, "Do you need some help with that?" They all turned to see Tom Branson and his daughter standing there.

"Mr. Branson and Miss Sybbie!" Carson blurted out before remembering his duties. "Do you have any luggage, sir?"

"I left it out front. Where is everyone?"

"I believe they're in the library. It's nearly time for tea. I can check for you."

"Don't bother, Mr. Carson. We'll find them." The two went in search of the others. When they entered the library, Sybbie spied her grandfather and rushed toward him excitedly.

"Tom, Sybbie darling." Mary was quick to greet the pair.

Robert scooped up his eldest grandchild in his arms. "Give old Donk a kiss. I think you grew a foot since you left."

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" Cora rebuked her son-in-law.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"How long can you stay?" Edith inquired.

"Just until after the wedding."

Carson and Barrow soon appeared, the latter carrying the tea things, as the footmen were busy with the suitcases. The Christmas tree was temporarily forgotten.

"So how are things in Boston, Tom," Robert inquired when they were all served.

"The dealership is up and running now. We've even opened a new sales floor."

"And you're happy working with your cousin?"

"He's been good to Sybbie and me. It's nice to have family about."

Cora heard him and jumped in. "I hope you think of us as your family too."

"Certainly, I do," Tom assured her. "I was sorry to hear about the Dowager Countess. She was a very great lady, and I'll miss her."

"We all will," Mary agreed. Then she remembered something else. "What happened with your run for the city council? You didn't say in your last letter."

"As a matter of fact, I won."

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Mary was eager to apprise Tom of everything she'd done as the estate agent since he left. "I'd love to show you."

"I'd like that," he agreed.

They soon found themselves walking side-by-side in the direction of the office. Mary had missed her brother-in-law and the friendship they developed since Sybil's death. "I'm so happy you're back," she enthused.

"I couldn't miss Edith's wedding."

"Couldn't you? I wish I could."

"I like Bertie. I think they'll be very happy together."

"He's nice enough, I suppose," Mary admitted, "but he's deadly dull. Still, that won't matter with Edith."

"Mary!" Tom chided with a chuckle. "And you're not jealous?"

"Of Edith? Don't be mad."

"She'll be a marchioness and the mistress of Brancaster Castle. She'll outrank you now," he teased.

Mary became thoughtful. "At one time, that might have mattered, but now I couldn't care less."

"Do you mean it?"

"It surprises me to say it, but it's true. Good luck to them."

"You've changed since I've been away."

"Have I? Well, perhaps I have."

They arrived at the office, and Mary outlined the improvements she'd made in his absence. "I couldn't have done better myself," Tom remarked, impressed in spite of himself.

"High praise indeed."

"What does Henry Talbot think of you working?"

"Henry?"

"From your letters, it sounds pretty serious. I don't know him really, but I liked him when we met in Northumberland. I think he'll suit you very well."

Mary bit her lip. "I don't think I'll be seeing him again."

"Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing. Henry's a fine man, but we simply want different things. He wants to get married and have children."

"And you don't?" Tom appeared puzzled.

"I've done all that. Right now, I'm happy running the estate for George, and I don't want to give it up. Please, say you understand."

"You've become a modern, twentieth-century woman. Of course, I understand."

"I wish Papa did."

"He doesn't approve of you working?"

"He wants me to marry and settle down to domestic life, but that's not what I want. That's not who I am anymore. Why can't he see that?"

"He'll come around. Give him time."

"Oh, Tom, I have missed you. Is there any chance we could convince you to stay?"

"I'm afraid not. The business is busier than ever, and I'll soon be sworn in to the city council. My life is in America now."

"And you're happy?"

"I am."

"With Miss Flynn?" Mary asked pointedly. When he didn't answer straight away, she added, "What's she like?"

"Katie's like me. She comes from a large, Irish-Catholic family in South Boston. Her brothers and uncles are all involved in politics. In fact, it was their idea that I run for office."

"I suppose she's pretty?" Mary fixed him with a knowing smile.

Tom beamed. "She's beautiful, and she adores Sybbie."

"Is it serious?"

He hesitated. "How would you feel about that?"

"You're my brother, Tom. I want what you want. If you care about this woman, I promise we'll all welcome her with open arms."

"I hope you mean that because I've asked her to marry me, and she said yes."

"What? Why didn't you say earlier?"

"I wanted to tell you first. I'll let the others know tonight."

Mary embraced him. "I'm so happy for you and Sybbie."

Tom breathed a sigh of relief.


	8. Chapter 8

****Episode 8****

Anna had been restless all day. Her back ached, and she found herself unable to get comfortable. The next-door neighbor, Mrs. Tripp, looked in on her hourly now while John was working, promising to notify him immediately if there were any change. It was on one of these visits that Anna's waters suddenly broke, signaling the beginning of labor. The neighbor promptly dispatched her eldest son to the Abbey to inform Mr. Bates of the news. She then returned to settle Anna into bed.

* * *

Bates was in the boot room polishing a pair of His Lordship's shoes in preparation for the annual Christmas Eve party that night. His mind was on the impending birth. He knew it wouldn't be long now. His thoughts were interrupted by Thomas ushering in an excited Davy Tripp with the message that it was time to send for the doctor.

"My God, it's beginning," the valet spoke, already moving toward the door. "I must go to her."

Thomas took charge. "Right. I'll ring Dr. Clarkson and let Mr. Carson know what's happening." He took the shoes that Bates still held in his hand. "I'll finish these too."

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow." Although there was no love lost between the two men, Bates was grateful to him now.

"Send us the news as soon as you can."

Bates nodded and set out for the cottage as fast as his bad leg would allow. He promptly made his way to the bedroom.

Anna was sitting in bed propped up with pillows. "You didn't have to come yet," she scolded him. "Nothing will happen for hours."

"Certainly, I came. Dr. Clarkson will be here soon too."

She was gripped with a sudden contraction as he looked on with horror. He wished he could somehow spare her the agony of her upcoming ordeal. "What can I do," he asked helplessly.

"Just keep talking," she replied while the pain passed.

He understood and sought to distract her. "Have we decided on a name?"

"If it's a boy, it'll be John after his father."

"Do you think the world is ready for another John Bates?" he asked teasingly.

"We can call him Jack."

"And if it's a girl?" Just then there was a knock on the door. "That'll be Dr. Clarkson." He greeted the little physician and showed him into the bedroom.

"I need to perform an examination. It might be better if you waited outside," Clarkson suggested.

Bates did as he was told.

At last, the doctor reappeared. "I'm afraid we've got a long night ahead of us."

"But everything's alright?" He couldn't help thinking of Lady Sybil.

"I see no reason for concern," the physician assured him.

The following hours were torture for both Anna and her husband pacing in the sitting room. The clock on the mantel said 12:00. It was Christmas Day. Suddenly, there was the sound of a baby's cries, and Dr. Clarkson emerged wiping his hands on a towel. "You can go in now."

Bates entered to find his wife looking exhausted but blissfully happy, cradling the infant in her arms. The sight brought tears to his eyes.

"Come and meet your new daughter, John."

"Daughter? It's a girl then?" He dropped gingerly onto the bed beside her, his eyes fixed on the tiny bundle before him.

Anna looked at him hopefully. "I'd like to name her after Lady Mary if you agree—Mary Bates."

"Mary Anna Bates," he corrected her, smiling. "I think that's a fine name." He gave her a kiss. "Happy Christmas, Anna."

"Happy Christmas, John."

* * *

After church, the servants gathered in the great hall to receive their annual gift from the family. They then returned downstairs to exchange the modest presents they had bought for one another. It was Downton tradition that on Christmas the staff had their dinner at noon while the family enjoyed theirs at night. The Carsons entered the kitchen to the tantalizing aroma of sweet and savory dishes. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, I'd say we're in for a treat," Mrs. Carson complimented the harried cooks.

"I don't suppose Mr. Bates will be joining us," her husband mused.

"Of course not," the housekeeper replied in disbelief. "He'll want to spend the day with Anna and the baby."

"But what will they eat?"

"I thought of that," Mrs. Patmore explained. "I fixed them a basket with their dinner and something for later. Daisy took it over earlier."

"That was thoughtful of you," Mrs. Carson told her.

"Yes. Good." The butler nodded his approval. "Now if you're ready, Mrs. Patmore, I think we'll go in."

The other servants were already standing at attention behind their chairs, eager to tuck in. There was a colorful Christmas cracker on everyone's plate, and soon the sounds of loud snaps and good-natured laughter filled the room. For one day a year, the staff's dinner would rival even that of the family upstairs. They began with a silky, butternut squash soup followed by a salad made with beetroot and feta. Next, bowls of creamy mashed potatoes and roasted fall vegetables appeared along with warm, freshly-baked rolls. Finally, Mrs. Patmore entered carrying a turkey nearly as round and plump as herself to a chorus of excited cheers.

"You've outdone yourself again this year, Mrs. Patmore," Carson smiled with satisfaction.

The cook was quick to share the credit. "It's as much Daisy's work as it is mine."

As the meal was winding down, the talk around the table naturally turned to the Bateses. "When will they be leaving?" one of the maids inquired.

"Mr. Bates informed me that they will be setting out on New Year's Day," Carson replied.

"He and Anna have been here a long time. It won't be the same without them," his wife observed.

"When he first came, I didn't think he could do the job. Now, I don't know how we'll manage without him."

Miss Baxter noticed Molesley's crestfallen expression and quickly added, "I'm sure Mr. Molesley is more than up to the challenge."

The balding footman rewarded her with a grateful smile.

"Indeed he is," Carson agreed, realizing his gaffe. He quickly changed the subject. "When will you be leaving us, Mr. Barrow?"

"Lady Stiles wants me to go over on the third and start on the fourth."

"And what about you, Daisy?"

"Not until the following week."

"Oh, I'm going to miss you," Mrs. Patmore declared, tears welling up in her eyes as they always did when she spoke of Daisy leaving.

Suddenly, Andy rose from the table and exited the servants' hall without saying a word. The butler looked up to see his retreating back. The lad was young yet, and perhaps he was missing his family on Christmas. Best to leave him to himself. A few seconds later, the sound of the back door opening and closing was heard.

"I expect he needed some air," Mrs. Carson spoke to cover his departure.

Daisy turned to Thomas and urged, "You should go after him, Mr. Barrow."

The underbutler returned a look of surprise.

"Now then," Mrs. Patmore chirped. "Who's ready for some plum pudding and hot rum punch?"

* * *

Thomas looked about the yard, but there was no sign of the distraught footman. Finally, he found him seated on a bench, hidden from view of the house. "What's the matter, Andy?"

The young man merely stared at the ground gloomily.

Thomas lowered himself down next to him. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with Daisy leaving?"

"Daisy?"

"Of course, you'll miss her, but you can always write, and she'll be back in the summer."

Andy turned to him in disbelief. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

There was no reply.

"Andy?"

"You'll be going away soon," he said apropos of nothing.

"I'll stay for the wedding."

"What about me?"

"They've done away with the underbutler, the hallboy, one lady's maid, and one footman, not to mention Daisy. You'll be alright now."

"But I'm not alright, am I? How could I be?" Andy rose and hurried back inside, leaving Thomas staring after him.

Miss Baxter soon joined the underbutler. "The poor thing. He's so upset."

Thomas nodded. "He's awfully cut-up about Daisy going."

"Oh, he's cut-up alright but not about Daisy."

Barrow fixed her with a puzzled expression.

She explained patiently. "He's upset because you're leaving. He—cares for you."

"What?" It couldn't be true. She must be mistaken. During his time in Downton, Thomas had experienced a brief affair with a visiting duke, an attachment to a blind officer at the hospital, and an unrequited love for a certain blond footman. Other than these, his only romantic liaisons were anonymous sexual encounters that left him feeling sickened and ashamed.

He had looked on with envy as first the Bateses and then the Carsons married and began their new lives together. He knew he should be pleased for them, but he couldn't hide the anger and resentment he felt at being denied his own chance at happiness. Only recently, had he come to accept the reality of his situation, vowing to put all that foolishness behind him. Love wasn't meant for the likes of him.

That night, Thomas stood outside Andy's bedroom door for several moments before summoning the courage to knock. Miss Baxter's earlier words kept playing in his mind, and he knew he wouldn't sleep until he learned the truth. Upon entering, he said, "I think we need to talk." He closed the door behind him. This was a conversation for their ears only.

Andy was seated on the side of his bed removing his shoes. "Is something wrong, Mr. Barrow?"

"No, nothing's wrong." Now that he was there, Thomas wasn't sure how to begin. He lowered himself down on the spare bed, facing the other man. "Miss Baxter said something earlier, and I wanted to ask you about it."

The footman was looking wary now.

"She seemed to think you've developed—certain feelings for me." He fully expected Andy to deny it. "She's wrong, though," he added quickly.

Andy threw back his head defiantly. "What if she's right?"

Thomas was dumbfounded. After several seconds, he managed to speak. "You're still very young. You can't be sure. Find yourself a nice girl, and stop thinking of me that way."

"I am sure. I may be young, but I'm old enough to know what I feel. I love you, Mr. Barrow—Thomas." He placed his hand on the other man's knee.

The underbutler had waited so long to hear those words. Now they had come too late. "But I'm going away soon, so I don't see what can come of it."

Both men stared morosely at the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

****Episode 9****

The wedding of Edith and Bertie Pelham had been a triumphant success, and the two left for their honeymoon abroad. The reception broke up soon after, and all the guests had gone. The cleaning up would wait until morning. It was New Year's Eve, the one night a year when the servants were free to enjoy themselves.

Charles Carson looked at the clock. "It's time." He had requested a meeting with the family earlier.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Charlie? You can still change your mind," his wife reminded him anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts." His face showed concern.

"No, but I don't want you to have any regrets. It's a big step we're taking."

"They're waiting for us," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. Far from remorseful, he found he could barely contain his excitement. He and his Elsie were about to embark on a new adventure. Indeed, it made him feel like a young man again with his whole life in front of him. The couple entered the drawing room to see the entire Crawley family and their houseguests relaxing after the excitement of the day, all wearing expressions of weary contentment.

"Come in, Carson—and Mrs. Carson, of course," Robert welcomed them, sounding somewhat squiffy. "We're all eager to hear what you've got to tell us. You made it sound so mysterious."

"I'm sorry about that, m'lord," the butler apologized, "but we've come to a decision, and we wanted to let you know. Mrs. Carson and I have discussed it at length and decided that the time has come for us to step down. We are retiring."

"What?" the family replied in unison.

Carson tried to explain, "Since my marriage, I no longer feel like I can give my full attention to my work, and this family deserves no less."

"But you'll stay on the estate, help manage grand events and so on?" Mary implored desperately, sounding like a little girl.

Carson smiled indulgently at her. "I'm afraid not, m'lady."

Rosamund looked confused. "But you've always loved your job."

The butler turned to his wife, beaming. "I found something I love more."

"What will you do now?" Cora asked.

"The work is nearly completed on our guesthouse. We'll move there and open in the spring."

"Downton Abbey won't be the same without you, without either of you," Robert opined emotionally.

"We won't leave until you find a new housekeeper," Mrs. Carson was quick to assure him.

"And a new butler," the Earl added.

Carson cleared his throat. "If I may, m'lord, I'd like to recommend Mr. Barrow for the position."

"Barrow?"

"He knows Downton, and he's certainly qualified."

Robert nodded in agreement. "But he's already accepted another post. What about the Stileses?"

"I thought of that. Perhaps Mr. Spratt could take his place. I know he's been unable to find employment."

"Would Barrow agree?"

"I believe he would. He doesn't want to leave Downton."

"I'll send for him." Lord Grantham pulled the bell rope, and Andy appeared. "Andrew, ask Barrow to come here."

"Yes, m'lord."

The underbutler arrived shortly wearing a puzzled expression. "You wished to see me, Your Lordship?"

Robert outlined the plan, ending with, "Well, Barrow? Would you like to be the butler here?"

"Certainly, I would," Thomas replied, unable to hide the emotion in his voice.

"That's settled then. I'll speak with Spratt in the morning and sort things out with the Stileses."

The three servants returned downstairs to inform the staff of the changes.

* * *

Upon hearing the news, Miss Baxter kissed Thomas on the cheek. "I'm so pleased for you."

"Thank you," he replied looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Will you be happy now?"

He shrugged philosophically. "As happy as I can be, I suppose."

Mr. Molesley added his good wishes before turning to the lady's maid. "I was wondering if I might have a word—when it's convenient."

"I'm free now if you like."

"Oh—uh—perhaps we could speak in the boot room." He crossed the corridor, away from the servants' hall, with Miss Baxter following closely behind him.

"You're being very mysterious," she remarked.

"No-no. I just didn't want the others to hear." He rubbed his hands through what remained of his hair.

"Is something wrong? You seem nervous."

"Do I?" he squeaked.

She waited patiently for him to continue.

He took a deep breath and began. "The thing is, Miss Baxter, I've never felt like I fit in anywhere. When I was young, I became interested in cricket, but the other boys never asked me to play with them. I wasn't very good at it, so I spent most of my time alone with my head in a book. I would pretend I was Jim Hawkins or Sherlock Holmes or Tom Sawyer, anyone but who I was. I left school to work with my father in the greenhouses, but I was rubbish at that too."

The lady's maid cocked her head to one side wondering where he was headed with this.

"When I entered service, I finally found something I was good at. I worked my way up to valet and butler for Mr. Crawley and his mother, but when he died, I was forced to accept a demotion to footman."

"What does it matter now? You're going to be valet to the Earl of Grantham. Think of that."

"Yes, it means I can finally hold my head up again, do you see?" He searched her face for some sign that she understood.

Miss Baxter nodded. "When I was paroled from prison, I thought my life was over. Then Mr. Barrow got me this job as a lady's maid to a countess, no less, and suddenly everything turned around for me."

He abruptly changed tacks. "Do you ever get lonely, Miss Baxter?"

"I suppose we all do sometimes."

"I've been lonely most of my life, that is, until you came here. I would've spoken up earlier, but I was just a footman, and you were so far above me. I know I don't have much to offer, but what I do have is yours."

His meaning began to slowly dawn on the lady's maid. "Are you asking me to marry you, Mr. Molesley?"

"Yes, I am." He lowered himself down on one knee. "Miss Baxter, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She didn't say anything for several moments, too shocked to reply.

He got to his feet. "If you need more time—"

"Are you sure you've thought this through? What would your father say if he knew you were marrying a convicted jewel thief?"

"I've told him everything, including how I feel about you. He hopes you'll say yes."

"Then, of course, I'll marry you." She rewarded him with a tearful smile.

* * *

Unbeknown to the couple, Barrow was headed down the corridor on his way outdoors. He passed by the boot room and heard voices coming from inside. Out of a habit born of many years of snooping, he stopped momentarily to listen. "It's about time," he whispered to himself before continuing on. He soon found himself in the courtyard trying to process his change of situation. In becoming the butler of Downton Abbey, he had reached the pinnacle of his profession. It was certainly an accomplishment for one of his years, especially for a man like him. The image of Miss O'Brien suddenly popped into his head, and he smiled to think what she would have made of it. He heard the back door open and turned to see a tall figure approaching him in the moonlight.

"Everyone's waiting for you, Mr. Barrow. It's nearly midnight, and Mr. Carson is about to pour the wine."

"Tell them I'll be right there, Andy."

The footman made no attempt to go. "I guess you'll be staying on then," he observed shyly.

"It looks that way."

"Congratulations on your promotion to butler."

"Thanks."

"Mr. Barrow, about what I told you—"

"You didn't mean it?" Thomas felt a stab of disappointment.

"Yes, I did," Andy insisted. "I was just going to say if you don't want me, I'll understand. Why would you when you're handsome and clever and sophisticated, and I'm … " His voice trailed off. "And now you rank so far above me."

"It's not that," Thomas assured him. "I'd be lucky to have you, but it's not that simple. We'd be running a terrible risk. If we were caught, we'd probably be dismissed, maybe without a reference and never work again. We could even end up in prison. Have you thought of that?"

The footman considered his words carefully. "I know what could happen. I do. But I'm willing to take that chance if you are."

Thomas didn't answer for several moments. He knew the idea was completely mad. How could they be together without everyone finding out? Miss Baxter had already picked up on Andy's feelings. She'd never give the pair away, but had she told Mr. Molesley? Thomas thought Daisy might have guessed too which meant that Mrs. Patmore would probably find out. It was only a matter of time before the men's relationship became a topic of gossip below stairs and would eventually find its way upstairs. What would Lord Grantham make of his butler and footman carrying on under his roof? He had proven himself sympathetic to Barrow's situation, but would his tolerance stretch far enough to allow him a partner?

On the other hand, Thomas genuinely cared for Andy. He thought he could even grow to love him. He had been awarded the job he most desired and the possibility of a man to share his life with. It was everything he ever wished for, and he knew the opportunity wouldn't come again. Finally, he spoke. "I've been alone most of my life, and I've been unhappy for as long as I can remember. I don't want to be unhappy anymore."

"Are you saying—"

"I'm saying if you want me, you can have me."

The young man broke into a broad smile. "Thank you, Mr. Barrow, thank you."

Thomas became serious. "We'll have to be very careful and very discreet. No one else can find out. Do you understand?"

Andy nodded soberly.

"We have the entire men's quarters to ourselves now, except for Mr. Molesley, and I have a feeling he'll be moving out soon. We'll just have to be patient."

"Moving out?"

"Let's just say I don't think the Bateses' cottage will be empty for long," he replied cryptically. "We'd better go inside before they send out a search party to find us. Happy New Year, Andy."


End file.
